Perhaps the most essential lesson I learned from martial arts training is that a fight is won when the opponent’s will is gone. With enough practice one can see the moment that the will leaves. It’s in the eyes, the body language, the effort.
Last week I tried. I tried to get out of the house, but wherever I went felt like the wrong place to be. I tried to stay busy, but whatever I did felt like the wrong thing to do. I wrote a memoir piece, but it felt empty.
Mostly I slept, or tried to. My closed eyes are an all-night cinema, playing the night of my mother’s death on a loop. I get a little sleep, of course, but I wake up exhausted every morning.
Only a week and a half has passed since that night. I know that both the images and the emotions will fade with time, but right now my will is gone. I don’t care about much of anything, really. Everything seems trite, meaningless, irrelevant. That will change, but that’s where I am right now.
Maybe I’ll be back on track next Monday. Thanks for your patience.